Two Way Mirror
by TheGoddessofDeath
Summary: Manfred and Franziska, caught in a web of scorn from those around them, decide to marry despite being father and daughter. The primary reason: so the von Karma name can be carried on when Franziska produces a male heir. Manfred x Franziska.


**Two-Way Mirror  
**By: TheGoddessofDeath

**A/N: I haven't written this long of a fic in a while. Written for the Kink Meme. The requester asked that Manfred and Franziska be married for the sake of love and producing male heirs. So yes, this story contains incest. **

**Note: Adolf is an original character of mine.  
**

He has just gotten into his car at the end of his work day when his phone rings.

"Edgeworth speaking," his rich tone announces into the receiver.

He is rewarded with a stern, "Brüderlein!" but he does not wince, nor reply rudely back. Instead, he laughs.

"Schatzibär, I have not heard from you in a while. How are you?"

Leave it to Franziska von Karma to have impeccable timing.

"Fool!" she yells into the phone. "I did not call you to chat about the weather!"

Her way of cutting to the chase sometimes got a bit winded, but still Miles is smiling from ear to ear. If they had been speaking face to face he would have surely been smacked by now. "Alright, Schatz. What is it, then?"

There was quiet for a moment before her voice rang through, "I'm getting married."

Getting... _what_? "Since when?"

"Last night." It was obvious she was not pleased with his response.

Miles was racking his brain. Surely he did not miss the fact his beloved sister had a boyfriend? He had never heard of one. And he was sure Herr von Karma would not just marry his youngest daughter off to whomever. Not with where she was in her career and things. She was only seventeen, for christssakes.

Finally, he asked, "Who's the lucky man?"

And he swore he could hear the sun shining in her voice when she said, "Papa."

Oh, that would explain _a lot_.

***

The moon hung low in the early evening sky and it caught Franziska's attention, drawing her away from her caseload. She was in between cases at the moment, but still a von Karma's work is never done. She had learned that years ago, and it still rang true.

Arms folded on the windowsill, the teenager leans forward and watches the stars wink at her through the clouds. Spring always proved to have the most beautiful nights.

She doesn't hear the door open, nor the cane tip hit the floor behind her. "Franziska," his deep voice rumbles like thunder and she starts, trembling a bit as she turns to face him. "Good evening, Papa."

She waits for him to scold her, tell her to get back to work but it doesn't come. "Walk with me," he says, turning and expecting the girl to follow. Franziska joins him in the hallway, folding her hands behind her back and looking to the floor. "Keep your head up," Manfred says with a slight growl, and she does so automatically.

The two end up in the garden behind the manor, the cool April air nipping at her through her clothing. Still, she finds herself walking close to her father, their fingers intertwined. For the past six months, father and daughter found themselves weaving an intricate web of secrets in the form of gentle kisses in shadows, soft touches under the dinner table, barely-audible sweet nothings uttered into ears.

It's thrilling, to Franziska at least.

The elder male leads her to a marble bench in the middle of the garden, next to a fountain she remembers had been off limits to her as a young girl. The moon shimmers in the water, and blue eyes are captivated.

"Franziska," Manfred starts once they are both on the bench, arms securely around his daughter's lithe frame. "I have something to discuss with you."

When Manfred von Karma wanted to talk, everyone listened, wether they wanted to or not. Franziska was no exception. "Yes, Papa?"

"Child, I'm old. I have been a prosecutor for forty years this year and I think it is high time I retired."

The girl opens her mouth to speak but he shushes her and continues, "I am not concerned about our family honour. You are more than capable of continuing to give the name of Von Karma an association with Perfection. However," at this he feels her muscles tense up, her heartbeat quicken. Such a foolish little thing. "I have no male heirs. Well, at least none bearing our last name. And I refuse to have this family die out with you and your sister."

The young German girl and her father's brains were almost always on the same wavelength: when it came to law. However this short affair with her paternal unit had proved to be anything but syncopated. "So, are you going to adopt a boy, Papa?" she asks, almost concerned about having _another_ sibling to compete with.

"No," he says softly, almost in a grumble as he lowers his lips to her ear. "I want _you_ to carry my next child."

Her eyes widen as she looks back to him over her shoulder. "But Papa, the risks..."

"I've already done the pros and cons of this in my head, Franziska."

It is a while before she says anything, seeming to think this over herself. It isn't that she doesn't want to carry her father's child... but...

All doubts rush from her head however when the male reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring.

"Will you be my-"

Franziska's arms were around her father's neck before he could finish, and a rare smile crossed his wrinkled features.

"I will, Papa."

Normally the prosecutor in her would be questioning laws regarding this decision, and she would later, but for now she could not help but collapse into the elder's arms.

She knew her father would pull the right strings. He always did.

***

"Wright and Company Law Offices, this is Mr. Wright speaking."

"NIIIIIICK."

Phoenix had to hold the phone away from his ear upon hearing Larry cry into it. _Oh great_, he thought,_ now what?_ "What, Larry? Get into another pickle?"

"No, man! I was trying to contact Edgey and he hasn't answered his phone in days!"

Well, _that_ certainly got Phoenix's attention. "What?"

Still, he had to stand back and think. It was the middle of September. Miles could have gone on vacation and not told anyone. Even though the two had only been back in contact for not even a month, Phoenix still worried about his friend. "Well, have you gone by his house and checked to see if his car was outside?"

"Oh!" Larry chirped. "Why didn't I think of that?"

_Gee, I wonder_. "Meet me here, Larry. We'll go pay Edgeworth a visit."

"Be right there, buddy!" the other's high-spirited voice echoed in the line before it disconnected.

Phoenix hung the phone up and groaned. It had been a few weeks since Mia had been killed, and running business from here just did not seem to be right.

"Maya, I'm going out for a while," he said to the teen as he walked past the couch she was zoning out in front of the television on. "If anyone calls-"

"I know, Nick," the ebony-haired girl said, not taking her eyes off the screen. "Now be quiet, would ya? The Steel Samurai is about to kick ninja butt!"

Phoenix rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets before going outside to wait for his best friend. It wasn't long before the male showed up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "Hey, Nick! Let's go, huh?"

The two friends made their way to a more classy part of town, where Larry knew what house to be looking for. "That one!" he said, pointing to a house with a red sports car parked outside. "And look, his car is there!"

Phoenix trailed shyly behind his more high strung friend as Larry bounded to the door and rang the doorbell multiple times. Then he started banging on the door. "Edgeyyy! It's Larry and Nick! We wanted to see why you weren't-"

The door opened, and a very irate Miles was standing there. "What, Larry?"

"Dude, you're alive!" he screeched happily, wanting to hug him but Miles looked like he wanted to kill something so he thought better of it. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

Miles sighed, pushing the door open further. "Come in," he said as he turned around, expecting the two to follow him in.

As Miles made tea for his two friends, they were both looking around at the fancy interior. It fit Miles Edgeworth to a T. "So, what's up Edgey?" Larry ventured to ask once the tea tray was set before them.

"If you must know, I left the country for a week," he said, pouring tea into three teacups. "I had to go to Germany."

Phoenix thanked him for the tea and then raised an eyebrow. "Germany? What's in Germany?"

Miles sighed as Larry started putting more sugar than tea in his cup. "I was asked to witness a wedding. That is all."

"But, isn't that where you moved to after fourth grade?"

The grey-haired male seemed impressed Phoenix knew that. "How did you know?"

"There were rumours. Things on the television... I pieced it together." The defense attorney gave him a sideways smile, drinking his tea.

"Well, my family over in Germany... my sister was getting married so I went to bear witness."

This got Larry's attention. "Whoa, you got a sister Edgey?!"

Miles nodded, closing his eyes. "I actually have two. The younger one just got married on Thursday."

At this, Larry's face fell. "Is the other one married?"

"Yes Larry. She's been married for ten years and has a kid."

"Darn."

He rolled his eyes, watching the tea cups return to the tray. "So that's where I've been. And I'm ready to face you in court when the time arises, Wright. Don't drop your guard."

Phoenix smirked, nodding. "Gotcha, Edgeworth."

***

Bare feet pad softly into the room, a wave of sandalwood and cedar hitting her senses, along with the sharp accent of aftershave. After seventeen years his daughter and almost a year being his lover, Franziska is now her father's wife.

Her husband is washing in his bathroom so she lays her body gingerly on his large bed, atop his comforter. Her curves are accented through the muslin, dark outlines of where her panties lie. Her light blue hair frames her pale face as she waits.

In their year courtship, Manfred never once touched her outside of hugs and kisses. So tonight- their wedding night- she was ready to give and be given everything.

The elder male steps out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, and Franziska's eyes shamelessly wander over his slightly toned torso. She lays her head down, watches him eye her and she giggles slightly. "Come to bed, love," she mutters, slowly stretching her body as if she were a feline.

Manfred needs no other invitation, crawling onto the bed to hover over the young female. He notes she smells of some rosewater and powder, and it arouses him even more. She runs her tongue along her lips, and tilts her head up to kiss him. Their jointure starts out sweet, reassuring, and it grows into passion and seduction, want and raw desire.

"Franziska," he manages to gasp out as they break apart.

He wants her, needs her and oh, she craves him, adores him.

She studies his face with fingertips, loves every stern line that's etched into his forehead. The exploration is cut short, however, as Manfred starts to work on marking her porcelain neck with dark red bruises, claiming her as his. She says nothing, mouth just gaping and eyes half-lidded as small gasps escape her throat, fingers threading through damp silver hair. The teenager arches her back, begs for the male to touch her.

Finally, his large fingers caress the flimsy covering over her body, starts to inch it over her stomach, breasts and head until it is discarded beside the bed. Manfred drinks in the sight of her naked chest, breasts rising and falling in tandem with her breath. His daughter - his wife - lying here underneath him just pleading with her eyes to be touched, to be loved.

He will give her what she desires.

A mouth closes over a nipple, fingers teasing the other gently. Franziska moans his name, fingers grasping the sheets beneath her as she feels him, his essence of his manhood pressing into her thigh. Their ultimate bond is within reach and she feels him moving her panties off down her lithe legs.

Her scent reaches his nose as he moves downward to examine her womanhood: she's shaven, most likely for this occasion but he doesn't care that much. Her natural musk drives him wild, some animalistic urge surging through him as he kisses up her stomach, fingers moving to undo his towel and throw it to the foot of the bed.

He doesn't ask her if she's ready; the only warning that he is about to begin a slight pressure at her entrance. Franziska squirms slightly but opens her legs to her father and he takes her in a swift thrust. A heavy feeling bolts to her stomach and she feels her virgin sheath ripped from her and the pressure of her father actually inside her. It's painful, it's nauseating...

...it's perfection.

Manfred, having two wives before, knows all about taking a woman's virginity. He's a gentle lover, stroking Franziska's hair as she gasps for air and her muscles scramble to adjust to his girth.

At her slight nod, however, he's off and running. Thrusts from both parties try to match each other, their taboo dance making each of them whole.

She orgasms first, eyes closed and mouth agape in a silent scream as she grips his shoulder, not seeing him wince as her fingers increase their pressure over his ever-elusive gunshot wound that's long since scarred over. Her muscles hug his length, coax him to his own completion as he groans, and Franziska feels her father's offering within her.

Manfred stays within her for a moment or two or three, wanting to stay connected to her as long as he can. Another kiss is shared between the two, and Franziska shifts as her father pulls off of her.

And while she drifts off to sleep, blankets and her father's arms around her, she thinks about the life she hopes she's made tonight, and she prays to God it'll turn into her son.

***

His hand is heavy as he dials the familiar string of numbers, lets it ring before a familiar voice picks up. "Guten Morgen, von Karma residence."

"Hans, it's Miles," he said, recognizing the butler's voice. "Is Franziska home?"

"Oh, Master Miles," the male said with a smidgen of delight in his voice. "The mistress is out in the garden. Please allow me to fetch her."

Franziska is strolling about the manor's grounds, relishing in the fresh snow that had fallen the night before. She is three months pregnant with her father's child, and today she has her hand placed over the slight bump beginning to form. "There's snow all around, Mausi," she speaks to her abdomen, finally sitting on one of the wooden benches. Hans catches up to the girl but a few moments later. "Miss, Master Miles is on the phone." She stands, brushes her skirt off. "Thank you, Hans," before following him inside.

The young female takes the phone, a curt, "Hello?" into the receiver.

"...Franziska?" Miles seems a bit unsure, and she rolls her eyes.

"Yes, Miles Edgeworth. It is I. Now, what do you want?"

A small sigh is let out, and her heart plummets to the bottom of her chest. "What, Miles? What?"

"Papa..."

"What about Papa?" she asks quickly, sounding frantic.

Miles sighs again, shushing his sister. "Let me talk," he mutters before she quiets down to listen. "Papa came to prosecute me, as you are well aware... but he's been arrested."

The rest of her brother's words mesh together and she finds herself dizzy. "A-arrested? What did he do?"

"My father.... he shot my father."

Franziska drops the phone and screams.

***

It's a few days later that he shows up at Phoenix's doorstep.

The defense attorney doesn't ask questions, just lets the other man in. He looks pale, like he hasn't slept in days. He lets him sit on his couch while he goes to make tea.

"Happy new year," Miles says softly. "I wanted to thank you for helping me out."

Phoenix smiles, putting a hand on the other's trembling shoulder. "Edgeworth, you're shaking. What's the matter?"

It's them the silver-haired male hides his face in his hands, sighing. "I feel so guilty, Wright. I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, I cannot think..."

"And here I thought you were putting a fifteen year battle to rest," Phoenix says softly, "What's wrong?"

It takes a moment or two, but Miles finally starts to speak. "Remember back in September I told you my sister got married?"

Phoenix blinks, but nods. "Yes...?"

"Well," Miles swallows hard, sighing. Like a band-aid, he thinks. The quicker he does it the less anguish he has to put himself through. "Well, Manfred von Karma is her husband."

"...wait, wouldn't that be..."

"Yes, Wright. It's a long story. But to make matters worse, my sister is three months pregnant with his child."

"...holy shit."

Phoenix was never one for cursing, but the news he's just received is so messed up he does not know what else to make of it.

Miles drinks a bit of his tea, his shaking seeming to cease a little. "I don't know what to do. She's coming over here to stay nearby while he's incarcerated and to have the baby. But I've taken the father away from that child, Wright. I can't face Franziska after that..."

"Franziska?" Phoenix asks, raising an eyebrow. "Is that your sister's name?"

Miles nods. "Yes. She'll be here soon. I just... I'm at a loss."

Phoenix is not sure if he has anything helpful to say. He's still trying to digest all that's already been said, and he shakes his head. "Just be there for her and the kid." It was all he could think of saying.

The other male is deathly quiet, drinks the rest of the tea in his cup and stands up. "Thank you, Wright. I hate to cut this short but I have to go to the airport."

Phoenix nods, bids his friend goodbye, and remembers why he didn't take psychology.

***

February brings good news to Manfred von Karma's doorstep. However cold the doorstep has been the past few months. He's called out of his cell to sit in that uncomfortable fold-out chair. His cheeks are starting to sink even further into his face, dark circles under his eyes. It's the first thing his wife notices.

Franziska is now five months pregnant, her hand caressing her now apparent stomach. She smiles to him as his face lights up to see her. "Franziska..."

Seeing the proof of her pregnancy never fails to make him smile. "Papa, I have some good news," she starts. "I went to the doctor this morning. Say hello to your son."

There is nothing more in the world Manfred wants in this moment than to make the pane of glass between them to disappear, to kiss his wife and caress her beautiful abdomen. He sees the young girl he had held in his arms when she was his daughter, his little Franziska. A tear falls from his eye but he quickly wipes it away. "He's going to be beautiful. Just like you."

Franziska smiles widely, a slight giggle but tears start to form in her eyes. Later she'd blame her hormones but right now she doesn't care. "Papa, I miss you. I love you. I want you here with me."

Her hand is pressed to the glass, ebony gloves yearning to touch his skin, her lips wanting to join with his, to curl into his arms. Thick fingers touch the glass, tracing the outline of her hand. "I love you too," he mutters, never one for affection. But the man is losing hope, knows he's walking a path away from her and their son, and when he reaches the end he will die, alone.

Manfred only has himself to blame.

She says until visiting hours are over, and he watches her stand and go, taking his whole world with him.

When he returns to his cell, he weeps.

***

Miles has left without any clue of where he's gone. He's taken a break from prosecuting to help his sister through the last months of pregnancy, and tonight is the night he picks to go missing without a trace. Franziska is breathing heavily as she feels another contraction hit her. The June air is starting to hit hard and hot, the night of the summer equinox upon Los Angeles. _Miles, where are you..._

Franziska howls in pain as another contraction hits, finally reaching over to call an ambulance. She'll call Miles later. Right now her baby is coming, and he plans on making his debut rather quickly.

The ambulance comes lightning quick, the medics taking her to the hospital. She listens to them talk over her as she cries in pain. "Tell me your name, how old you are, ma'am?"

The teenaged girl sighs, feeling another slight wave. "F-franziska von Karma... I'm eighteen..." She screams again, sighing as a few tears stream down her face.

"Where's the father?" the medic asks, writing the information down such as blood pressure and temperature.

Another whimper, "He's in prison."

The questions cease, and she feels her body being lifted and rolled to a room, a flurry of activity around her.

Miles arrives at the hospital as soon as he gets a call from one of the nurses. "You're the only person that she said would want to be here," is what the nurse tells him.

The female is asleep when he comes in, her stomach a lot flatter. "Sir, did you want to see the baby?" he hears from behind him, and he quietly follows the nurse out of the room and down the hall.

***

The next day Manfred is called out of his cell. This time he is face to face with his ward, an emotionless expression on the younger male's face.

"The boy was born last night," he starts."Healthy as can be."

He would congratulate him if he didn't feel like throttling the male he called his mentor for so long. Manfred's shoulders are heavy, he notes, and he sighs. "And Franziska is fine. Very tired, but fine."

Manfred is silent, thinks for a moment before nodding. "Thank you, Miles."

The young male nods, stands up. "Good afternoon, then."

As he watches the male leave, Manfred wishes that they'd hurry up and just kill him already.

***

Two weeks go by. July rears its head, sweltering heat the only companion for the forlorn inmates as the independence of a country he doesn't give a shit about is celebrated amongst the men.

The men with families get visitors that day: wives, children, parents, siblings, uncles and aunts. He waits his turn to be called, for someone to show up to see him.

She doesn't come until the end of visiting hours, her usual attire on and a baby carrier in tow. When Manfred is called down to see her, he is overjoyed to see she has brought their son.

"Papa," she says quietly, smiling to him as he sits down with more energy than she's seen him exhibit his whole stay here. "I'd like you to meet Adolf."

Manfred stares at the ebony-haired infant, the boy blinking sleepily up at the elder male peering down at him. "It's time for his nap but I told him we had to come see Papa. Isn't that right, sleepyhead?" she asks the infant, picking him up out of the carrier and cradling him in her arms. The boy yawns again, giving a fussy groan at being moved.

Now more than ever Manfred wants the glass gone, doesn't want to be here any longer. He finally has his perfect family, and he has to watch from behind bulletproof glass as his son grows up. It then occurs to him he'll never touch his son, hold him, kiss him.

"He's beautiful, Franziska," is all he can manage, still in shock that he and his daughter made that precious little life and he's perfect. For all he's heard about children being born of incestuous unions coming out horribly wrong, this child is the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on. How could everyone be so wrong? "Does he have any health issues?"

Blue eyes look downward, letting the boy have her finger to grasp onto as he nodded off. "He's got a few stomach problems and they say his immune system might be less than stellar, but he's fine for the most part."

Manfred is relieved to hear that, and Franziska starts up the usual catch-up chatter.

By the time Franziska and Adolf have to leave, the boy is sound asleep, Franziska is heartbroken and Manfred wonders if one gunshot was worth missing his son's entire life.

***

For his last request, Manfred asks to see his son.

While Franziska stands there, Adolf in her arms, he finds himself wondering why he wants to leave them behind. And he remembers watching them from behind a glass pane, longing to touch them and be with them. While he was alive, he would never be with them.

The young female hands her father the child, watching as he holds him tenderly, gazes at him as if he's memorizing everything he can. Adolf is quiet, making soft breathy noises as he watches his father. Finally he squeals happily, laughing.

It makes it harder for him to accept what's about to be done.

Franziska moves forward to take him back and Manfred holds her close, kisses her fully for the first time in almost a year and mutters, "I'm sorry."

"Papa," she whimpers, mostly to herself, clutching their son closer to her bosom as she backs away and watches them get him in position for his final destination.

The riflemen load their rifles, cock them, aim them.

All Franziska can do is close her eyes and cover Adolf's ears.


End file.
